╰┈➤ 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐍𝐎 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 ━━ ❝All these worries about villains and heroes... about quirks and the quirkless... when they should be worried about something far worse... me.❞
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛- you, the once powerful and feared Control Devil, find your...
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━ ⭒─⭑━
The morning was warm, sunlight filtering through the neighborhood trees, casting dappled shadows on the street.
You stood at the curb in front of your house, the duffel bag slung over your shoulder feeling heavier than it needed to. In your other hand, you clutched a packed lunch, carefully sealed and meticulously prepared by your mother, who hovered just a little too close beside you.
The faint sound of children playing drifted down the street—laughter, the rhythmic creak of a swing, and the occasional sharp bark of a dog. It was almost serene, if not for the buzz of nerves that clung to your mother like a second skin.
"Oh, sweetie, I can't believe my baby is going off to training camp!" she said, her voice trembling with emotion as tears threatened to spill over. Her hands fluttered uselessly, first brushing at your hair, then wringing themselves together like she couldn't decide on her next move. "You've been working so hard lately. Make sure to eat well, okay? And don't forget to hydrate. Oh, and don't push yourself too hard—promise me that!"
You shifted the strap of your bag, sighing quietly as you tried to keep your tone calm. "I'll be fine, Mother. It's just a camp. We'll be back before you know it."
She sniffled, pulling a tissue from seemingly nowhere and dabbing at her eyes. "I know, but—what if you need something? Or get hurt? Oh, I should've packed extra bandages—"
"Mother." You cut her off gently but firmly, forcing a faint smile on your lips despite the exasperation bubbling under the surface. "We'll have everything we need. I promise."
She fell silent, her mouth closing with a soft click as she gazed at you. For a moment, she just stared, her bottom lip wobbling slightly as though she was fighting to keep her emotions in check. Her hands, which had been fluttering just a moment ago, now gripped one another tightly in front of her, knuckles whitening with the effort.
Her eyes swam with a chaotic mix of emotions. There was the unmistakable gleam of pride, a spark that spoke of her certainty in your strength and potential. But it was layered with something deeper—anxiety that gnawed at the edges of her composure, happiness that you were moving forward, and sadness at the thought of letting you go.
She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, her brow furrowing as if searching for the right words. None came.
The distant rumble of an approaching engine saved you from further fussing. The sound grew louder, and a massive bus came into view at the end of the street, its shiny blue-and-white exterior reflecting the morning light. It slowed as it approached, the hiss of brakes audible as it came to a stop directly in front of you.
